Forbidden Fruit
by soulful-sin
Summary: VickyxTimmy Vicky's treatment of Timmy may have another reason than hatred...
1. Explanation

Disclaimer: None of this is mine.

Forbidden Fruit

Chapter One: Explanation

She was a pedophile, plain and simple. Okay, maybe not so plain, and maybe not so simple, but she was. Day in and day out, she babysat a boy she claimed to hate, but nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, she had more love for him than she had for her younger sister, the wretched little brat she was.

Perhaps the reason she disliked her had not do with spite, but more with jealousy. She was six years his senior, she shouldn't be looking at him like that. Tootie had all the license in the world, considering she was his age. No matter how creepy he might think she was, she still stood a better shot than her.

Even though she was twenty one, she still babysat him. It was ironic- she'd shoot down a date (if she got them, which were rare), over seeing him any day of the week. At this point, although she was milking the Turners, they no longer mattered. Seeing him, hearing his voice, being with him, these were all the things that mattered.

Shaking her long red hair, which had already grown past her waist, she prepared herself for another night of torture. No one ever asked why she tortured him more than anyone else. They assumed it was because of baseless hatred. She was making an example of him…that's what they thought. Fools, hopeless, hopeless fools.

Clenching her eyes shut, she imagined him doing menial chores while she watched. He never knew it, but she was always watching. She heard everything he said about her and more.

Sometimes, at night, she lay awake and replayed every exchange they'd had, only with a different outcome. She imagined him scorning Tootie and rebuffing Trixie to fall for her. It grew and grew in her head, becoming an obsession. She'd get rid of them…

Then she'd shake her head like she'd just done and question how much of her sanity she still possessed. Clearly it couldn't be much, if she was in love with Timmy Turner. In fact, she'd been in love with him since he was ten years old…another chilling fact. She tried not to think about that particular too much, lest she damn herself further.

Things had started disappearing from Tootie's shrine, much to her distress. Tokens of her affection had reached Vicky's room and disappeared in places she'd never look. Well, she'd have to thank her for giving them to her, whenever she took permanent leave of her senses.

Tonight, the Turners were going out for another night Vicky had paid for. Most of the tickets they mysteriously received in the mail or at work were actually things she'd purchased for them. Anything to get them out and her in. After all, they trusted her to watch their precious gift from above.

_And how precious he is_, Vicky thought, finalizing the amount of torture she'd put him through tonight. Hey, you torture the ones you love, right? And Timmy was the fairest of them all.

This was why she'd never really gotten a boyfriend. Every time she'd been close, she pictured Timmy in their stead and things steadily declined from there. Her date would end up leaving and she'd berate herself for being so stupid as to picture them together. He'd never go for her.

Tightly her fingers wrapped around a picture of Timmy she'd acquired through a brief jaunt in her sister's room. Millions of pictures had been accrued after years of stalking him, surely she wouldn't miss just one? And, besides, she didn't really want to fight her for it, did she? She'd lose…and badly.

Glancing at the clock told her the Turners were leaving soon, so it was time for her to step in. What would they do without her? (Probably go out less and have a happier child…)

Deciding to keep her hair down, she shouldered her 'smiley face bag' and started out, only the twerpette jumped in her way. It seemed through some stroke of incredibly bad luck, she'd found out she was babysitting today and she wanted to talk to Timmy. Over her dead body was the usual sentiment, but Tootie was persistently annoying.

Overpowering anger seized her frame and she contemplating striking the twit where she stood. Perhaps a good sock to the face would quiet her for good. Timmy was hers, the foolish girl. He'd never like her.

_He'll never like you either, if you keep acting like this,_ the little voice in her head reminded her and, as usual, she told it to shut up before she pounded the daylights out of it. She didn't need a conscience, she didn't need a voice in the back of her head, she just needed to be in a room alone with him.

To her shock (and displeasure), Tootie clamped onto one of her legs and looked up at her pleadingly. Tears shone in her eyes, but she just scoffed. She had to learn to be lonely and miserable, because if she thought she was going to get anywhere near him, she _would be._

"Let go, mistake!" Vicky roared, slamming her into a wall. Again, Tootie wailed, but she let go. No one was stupid enough to hold onto someone who bashed you into a wall, no matter who it was.

In a ball, she gazed up at her and doubtlessly wondered how someone she was related to could hate her so much. The simple answer she was she was insufferably jealous, but she wasn't going to say that. Instead, she kicked her again before she fled the scene.

Good riddance to bad rubbish, that's what she said. Tootie _was _a mistake, as far as she was concerned. Little brat should have never been born; she was a drain on society.

Concentrating on that, she slammed the door shut and locked it, as though that would somehow keep Tootie out of Timmy's house. It hadn't before, and it wasn't going to, but she knew after being treated like that, she'd be up in her room wailing instead of down here, bugging her. It suited both of them just fine. Well, probably not Tootie, but she could care less about _her_.

Onto the Turner's…and the boy who had stolen her heart.


	2. Exploitation

Author's Note: Timmy is fifteen in this fanfic. It's not that hard to figure out, considering Vicky's five years older anyway.

And, for some reason that might become clear to me later on, Timmy's narrative will be in first person, present tense. I guess it's to distinguish between the two. (shrugs)

Disclaimer: Fairly Oddparents is never mine. It will never be mine. So there.

Chapter Two: Exploitation

She's creepy. Okay, I'll admit, she goes beyond creepy. In fact, creepy can't even begin to describe her.

I used to think Icky did it, but that's not true anymore. Even after six years of torturing me, she still hasn't had her kicks yet. No matter what, she finds new ways to antagonize me.

In a small way, I'm glad because it allows me to keep Cosmo and Wanda. Sometimes, I wonder what I would have done without them. They're the only thing keeping me together around her.

I almost wish she were more like her younger sister. At least then, she'd be more under control. I'd understand her a lot more, too. All I know is what Cosmo and Wanda have told me about her, but I can't believe that's the truth after all these years. I think it's a quick excuse for a real problem.

But I never really cared to look further than that. You don't really try to antagonize the beast, you know? With Vicky, you never know when she might snap…or kick you when you're down.

Take now, for instance. I'm cleaning out the toilet for the umpteenth time (I think I've seen the inside of a toilet more times than an alcoholic, at this point) and there she is, _staring _at me. What'd I ever do to you, Icky Vicky? Yeesh.

She's ordering me around again, and, at this point, I've about had it. Unless she's got some blackmail or something out there, I quit. Let her find another lackey, I'm sick and tired of this job. In fact, the next time she asks me to clean the toilet; I'd like to shove her head in there. She and the toilet can make out, for all I care.

"When you're done with that-" Vicky cackles, shoving my head further down. That's it! I've had it with her!

Reeling back, I manage to snap my head into her stomach. It catches her off guard and she stumbles. I waste no time and quickly exit, being sure to lock her in there. Leave _her_ to do all the chores she assigned me. Hmph.

She pounds on the door, but, like she did when I was younger, I pay her no mind. Let her scream and rant and rave all she wants, I'm not letting her out. This is payback time.

In between threats, I could swear I actually catch my name, which is odd, because she's never called me that when we're alone (other than in a threat). Usually, it's 'twerp', 'brat', or, occasionally, 'buck-toothed loser', but never Timmy. My name gives me pause and I stand by the door. Of course, I'm not going to open it, but maybe she's actually going to apologize.

"Timmy Turner, open this door right now or I'll call your parents!" Vicky screeches and I scowl. Why on earth did I think she was going to apologize? She'd sooner rot in the underworld before she ever said as much as 'sorry'. She hates my guts and I hate hers. It's just the way the world operates.

Meanwhile, a green potted plant winks at me and a pink rose scowls. Good ole Cosmo and Wanda, looking out for me. Heh, I knew Cosmo would approve. Although they hate her almost as much as I do, he's one for more physical actions. Wanda would prefer I did things less violently, but what do you expect? I _am _a guy.

I ignore her and go to play video games. For over an hour, Wanda and Vicky screech at me. Fortunately, a wish silences both of them, but Wanda continues to make angry gestures in the air. Cosmo takes to imitating her, much to her annoyance.

Finally, after I'm done with Blood Skull Crushers of Hades, I wish for Vicky to be able to speak again. (Not Wanda, because I'm not really in the mood for a lecture. I'll give her back her voice…later.)

"Timmy…" Vicky whispers and I can barely hear her. Very carefully, noiselessly, I creep to the door and listen intently. Either her voice has given out or she's given up. In either case, I want to hear her.

"Timmy…I'm sorry…" Here she breaks off, but it doesn't sound as though her voice has given out. Instead, it almost sounds as though she's crying…and that shocks me more than anything. Icky Vicky cry? Did the sky fall down, Chicken Little?

I daren't open the door, though. Right now, I'd like to savor the moment…and I wish for a tape recorder so I can blackmail her later. However, the next thing I hear makes me drop the tape recorder in shock.

"I'm sorry…I love you…"

Wait, what! What the hell is going on here! If I were a wimpier person, I think I'd faint from the shock. For now, though, I think I'll stare blankly, just like Cosmo and Wanda are. In fact, Wanda's giving the wall one wicked stare.

Choked sobs escape her as well as those three words I've only heard out of Tootie's and my parent's mouths. (Of course not Trixie…I'll never be lucky enough for that). Maybe out of someone like Veronica (who's a psycho, anyway), it wouldn't be such a shock, but out of someone that made it a hobby to show how much she hated me? No way.

I don't know whether I should open the door or not. After all, she may say it's a trick, but I've never heard her break down like that. I think she's successfully scared me more than when she's torturing me. I grew up learning Vicky _had _no empathy and love- what's going on!

I settle for staring at the door some more and waiting for her to spring the trap. C'mon, Vicky, tell me that you hate me and you're playing a nasty trick on me. Just, you know, stop crying like that. You're really frightening me.

Hopelessly, she bangs against the door and whispers, "C'mon, Timmy…let me out…this really isn't funny…"

Wanna know something weird? It stopped being funny when she started crying. In fact, I can't remember why I thought it was so funny at all.

Even so, I'm still hesitant to let the beast out. You never know when she might lunge…and I'll be damned if she lets me get away with hearing her cry like this. (Although the longer she cries, the worse I feel). As soon as I unlock it, she'll make me wish I was never born. I usually do.

Maybe I could keep her locked in here until my parents come home. Sure, it's cruel, but it'll keep her from killing me. When in battle with Vicky, you gotta keep your guard up and when she's down, you keep her down. No matter how bad I feel about hearing her like this...

Finally, though, she falls silent. Every once in a while, she hiccups, but that's probably because she was crying so long. Vicky and crying, error, error, does not compute…Man, wait until my friends hear that tape.

Again, the unsettling feeling returns in the base of my stomach. As much as I hate Vicky and as much as I enjoy kicking her while she's down, I kind of don't want them to hear her saying she loves me. It creeps _me _out, imagine how they'll react…

Not to mention Tootie- I wonder if she has any idea. Probably not; it'd devastate her. Unless she really didn't think Vicky stood a chance at me (and the thought of me and Vicky- gah!) Somehow, I don't think she knows. And, as I don't wish Vicky's love on my worst enemy (heh, heh, Crocker), I'm not telling her. Let her figure out on her own if Vicky's nasty enough to tell her.

Reluctantly, fumbling with the lock, I open the bathroom door and Vicky looks up at me, her eyes red rimmed. Unless she's become a much better actress than I thought, I hadn't misheard her. This is going to be awkward.

"How much did you hear?" Vicky asks, guarded. She looks at me warily and I quickly back up. I know something powerful about her and I could exploit it. For the first time in my life, I have power over her.

"All of it," I tell her with a triumphant grin. Before I can say 'fairy godparents', all the color drains from her face.

"If you tell anyone-" She begins, but I growl back at her. No more ordering around, not now that I know this. Forget locking her in a bathroom, this is much better.

Going nose to nose, I growl at her, "If I tell anyone, it'll be your downfall. Everyone will know you're in love with me and you'll be ruined everywhere. My parents won't pay your salary, since they'll fire you, no one in your college will be able to resist making your life a living hell, and I'm sure the few people you wanted to impress will be thoroughly disgusted with you."

She draws back, fear shining in her eyes for the first time in a long while and a sick sense of satisfaction runs through me, knowing I put it there. Good, she's afraid of _me_. Just what I've always wanted.

"From here on, you'll do whatever I say _or else_," I snap, and, in no uncertain terms, I indicate what would happen in the case of an 'or else'. She nods grimly and sets to work on my tasks.

This might just work out.


	3. Examination

Disclaimer: Fairly Oddparents, sadly, does not belong to me.

Chapter Three: Examination

She had no idea he hated her this much. Then again, when she thought about it, it was blatant in the way he reacted to her, but maybe he hated her because she thought he hated him. If she tried to appease him and force herself to act nice, he might change his tune.

It was worth a try, because all the work he was putting her through was ridiculous. Honestly, she'd never assigned this much work to _him_…more than twice a week. All right, so she was getting her comeuppance and she wasn't terribly pleased, but what was she to do? He had her nailed and not in a pleasant way, either.

Scrubbing the bathroom tiles with a toothbrush was difficult work and she gazed at them contemptuously, hoping by despising them enough, they'd get frightened into gleaming. Unfortunately, it didn't work and she was left with toothpaste and (she reflected with a bitter smile), Timmy's toothbrush. Hey, if she had to do this, why shouldn't she make him suffer a little too?

No, but that was why he was doing this in the first place. If she'd just told him she loved him when she started babysitting him…she'd be in court pending a lawsuit. Besides, if Tootie was creepy, imagine what he'd think of _her_, six years older and still acting like her younger sister. Ugh- thinking about it made _her _shudder.

Very carefully, she removed her long red hair from the accustomed ponytail. Why did everyone in her house have to tie their hair back? She preferred it cascading over her shoulders- when no one was looking. She only looked pretty when she knew no one could see her.

Besides, who needed to look feminine when they were invoking terror in everyone? Being dainty meant being weak, as far as she was concerned. Therefore, only she could appear weak in front of herself, no one else.

Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw Timmy standing there, watching her. Instead of laughing at her, like she'd envisioned, his gaze was querulous, and she wondered why. Shouldn't he be happy? He finally won…this round, at any rate.

Perhaps his conscience was bothering him. That was a possibility, wasn't it? After all, she'd never known him to do anything cruel in his life without repenting. If he let her go, then she could go back to being in charge of him and all of this could be forgotten.

He walked inside and closed the door behind her. She jumped slightly, on edge. What was his deal, making sure they were alone like this?

Sighing, he sank to his knees and, retrieving a bucket and a sponge, began to help her. He didn't meet her eyes nor did he speak to her. It was as though she wasn't there.

Something akin to pain flickered in his eyes and she jumped again, unaccustomed to him being in pain if it wasn't her fault. He sighed, hanging his head low as he scrubbed. Other than the split second expression, nothing else was discernible.

For a while, they worked in silence, the only indication they recognized each other's presence when their items ran into each other. Otherwise, Timmy ignored her. She'd never seen him so cold and impassive in his life. Usually, that was her department.

Once, when she scrubbed near the tub, she felt his eyes on her. When she turned in his direction, he quickly shifted away. She didn't ask him why- for some odd reason, it felt almost forbidden to break the silence.

A bitter smile rose to her face- so this was what Tootie and he experienced when she sentenced them to this. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly fun, but why was he volunteering to help her? He hated her; he wanted to watch her suffer. This made entirely no sense.

"Vicky?" He called and she jerked her head in his direction. (He was working on the other side of the room and, although it was not a large room by far, with his frigidness, it might have been the other end of Dimmsdale).

"Yeah?" She murmured, concentrating on obliterating a black spot and not on his voice. Instead of barking out a reply like, 'yeah, twerp!', she kept her tone low. After all, she hadn't the foggiest idea what he was thinking under that pink hat.

"Never mind!" He snapped, so loud she stared at him. His entire frame shook with anger and he flung the sponge at her before leaving the room…and locking her in again. Bastard.

Okay, what on earth had just happened? Why had he randomly flipped out on her? Random explosions were, once again, her department, not his. Was it 'act like your polar opposite day' or something? Jeez.

She took slim comfort in the fact she now had a sponge to scrub with, not his cruddy toothbrush. Heh, let him brush his teeth in the morning and find _that_. If only she could bring herself to laugh at his misfortune.

The fact remained that he knew her biggest secret and she knew nothing to blackmail him with. The ball was in his court and he could easily ruin her life by dialing a few numbers. Just thinking about it made her sick.

All those fake crushes, all those desperate cover-ups were for nothing. Sure, they may have deceived Tootie (that might be up for debate, since she was fairly certain that girl was smarter than most people gave her credit for), but they no longer worked on Timmy. He _knew _she didn't like anyone in her age group, that she was the person she'd tried to deny for so long.

More so than her corruption, her greed, and her thirst for vengeance against the world that had wronged her so long ago, this struck her as being morally wrong. Okay, so most people knew she had virtually nothing in the way of morality (or humanity, for that matter), but that wasn't entirely true. She did, but she kept it shut up lest people get the wrong impression and step all over her. Above all, she detested the thought of being construed as weak and fought it every day with her cruelty.

But she digressed. Falling in love with Timmy had, even now, become the only thing in her life she consciously objected to. How could she fall for someone when he was just a kid? Moreover, why couldn't she forget him? No matter what relationship she was in, no matter who she dated, she couldn't drive him out of her mind. And it was driving _her _out of her mind.

She couldn't exactly recall what she'd wanted when she was younger, perhaps just to rule over him until she fathomed her emotions. Since that had never happened, she continued to be cruel while wondering what the hell she was doing to this poor kid. He'd never done anything to deserve her hatred and yet here she was, dishing it out as though he were a terrorist and he'd killed her entire family (good riddance to them, though). It was completely baseless, moronic, and an utter lie. The trouble was, now that she was exposed, what was she supposed to do? Especially considering his own hatred of her…

Once upon a time, in the land where princes fought for princesses and bedtime stories were good enough to be true, she'd seen a fortune teller. She couldn't have been more than five, old enough to be an only child for one more year. Way back then, when she was happy with herself and who she was, before she hated the world, she'd seen the future.

And, ironically, back then, she'd believed in fate. She sincerely thought a Prince Charming was going to sweep her off her feet and deliver her to a great castle in the sky where she'd only have the best and he'd never leave her. Yes, she scorned herself now, but when she was five, it was her only wish.

In that carnival, as her parents rushed off to do something (to this day, she couldn't recall exactly what and it didn't matter much to her, anyway), an enchanting young woman with beads dangling from her glasses, a scarf over her mouth, and more scarves and jewelry than she knew what to do with, beckoned to her. Her voice was soft, magical, and Vicky followed her, feeling as though she was floating more than actually walking. Whatever powers this woman had, she was at her disposal.

The woman led her into a small, curtained room and laughed at her age. Vicky, confused but feeling so at peace, merely smiled softly. Everything was right with the world, this lady would take care of her.

She then began to tell her everything that would happen to her in the future. Although most children would have tuned her out at the first paragraph, she paid the utmost attention, unable to tear her eyes away from this strange gypsy. They wove a spell around her and she stared, transfixed.

The gypsy told her she would grow up to hate the world and everyone within it, except for one, small boy. Here she nodded, not entirely certain what she was talking about. Oh, but everything sounded so pleasant, so sweet…this woman could make hatred endearing.

She then told her the boy would be six years her junior and she'd fall hopelessly in love with him. That, no matter what she tried, she would be unable to cast him out of her mind. He was her destined love and it was best not to fight destiny.

Feeling lethargic, she nodded again and watched the strange woman weave her magic. A slender sliver of hair slipped out of her scarf, tied over her head, and she blinked at the pink hair revealed. But then it fit, didn't it? She wasn't human, she was something else. Something else…

Breathing deeply, placing her hand on her face, she smiled wistfully at her and told her life would be hard and cruel. People would cower in fear of her, but she would not be content with that, even if she lied and claimed she was. No, she would never be happy until she had the one she pined after.

Then, she whispered her name and vanished, taking the room with her. There she was left, staring at the vast wastelands and wondering if it was all a dream. Just a wonderful, magical dream.

She never told her parents about it and, in a few days, Tootie was born. By then, it was too late. Everything was set into motion and she could not change it if she wanted to.

Shaking her head, Vicky scrubbed absently at the tile. A pink lady? A woman who had magic? Simply impossible…and yet…

"If I'm meant to be with him, then why…?" She left the sentence dangling. She didn't dare find out the answer.

>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


	4. Extrapolation

Disclaimer: FOP is not mine.

Chapter Four: Extrapolation

I hate her. With every single cell in my body, I hate her. In fact, if I could, I'd make sure she died a nasty, cruel death while I watched and laughed.

Okay, so maybe I'm not that nasty, no matter how hard I try to pretend I am. Even so, I hate her. She's made my life miserable for six years (as everyone seems to forget she babysat me when I was nine) and now, I have the chance to wreak my vengeance. So why should I help her out? Why should I get down on my knees and scrub with her? She deserves this.

If only I could be so sure about that. The thing is, I really don't know as much about her as I think I do. Sure, I know she can be cruel and nasty when she wants to be, but I've never seen her with the gloves off, alone. Her confession makes me wonder if there's more to her than meets the eye.

As I sit in my room and play video games while she scrubs, my mind keeps returning to one thing. Before long, I find myself helping her out. Many people know I can't keep up anger or vengeance for that long and here I am, not speaking to her but scrubbing all the same.

Her hair's down and it crowns her face in a way I hadn't thought possible. With her hair down, she looks more, well, human than she did before. That doesn't mean I don't think she's a monster anymore, but there might something lurking beneath that cold exterior.

With a smirk, I glance at her and I think of the time we were trapped in an avalanche. She thought we were trapped and then did the oddest hug I'd ever experienced in my short life (and, fortunately for me, the only hug of that nature that I've ever experienced in my short life) and, then, for the rest of the time, until we were rescued, she was actually _nice_. I thought maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as bad a person as she pretended to be, and then I learned better.

Now, I wonder if, when she told me she didn't mean to be nasty in the cave, if there was another part to it. She was being cruel to me because she liked me but knew it was wrong…so she acted out. It makes about as much sense as anything else.

Unfortunately, thinking about this causes me to realize I should be in there, helping her. After all, she never intended for things to go this far, right? I'm sure she didn't walk in here the first day and decide she was going to get a crush on me. Nobody goes that.

So I _could _blame destiny and say that her treatment of me was a result of her rejecting it. That means I'd have to help her, though…

Shaking my head and wondering why I've started thinking harder than I normally do in school, I place my video game on pause and walk into the bathroom. There, Vicky scrubs the floor absent mindedly, as though she's deep in thought. Well, I'm not going to bug her. I'm not in the mood to stir up my own thoughts.

I watch her from the doorway and note her long, red hair trailing down her shoulders. Swallowing hard, I try to focus on the fact she's using my toothbrush instead of a sponge. Hmph, leave it to her to try to sock it to me again.

However, she doesn't really look that bad with her hair down. She looks almost _human_. Yeah, that's nasty, but c'mon, give me a break. Does she _seem _like the type of person to have a shred of humanity? I rest my case.

You know, she vaguely resembles an attractive girl with her hair down. I smirk, thinking about it. If she wore her hair down and didn't act like the vindictive, cruel person I know her to be, maybe she'd get some attention.

Ugh, why am I thinking these thoughts? Jeez…wish I could just return to thinking she's a creepy, nasty babysitter that hates my guts. Why did she have to fall in love with me? It screws everything up!

Well, at least I know if I'm in the same room, she won't torture me. Shutting the door behind me, I make up my mind. If my conscience insists on annoying me like this, then I'll help her.

Then again, there are other things that she could try other than torture. I just hope she won't because first, that would be disgusting and, second, extremely uncomfortable. I _think _I'd shove her away in repulsion, but, since everything today is topsy-turvy, I can honestly say I have no idea _what _I'd do.

Grabbing a sponge and bucket, I start on the other side of the room. Wow, the floor's dirtier than I thought. It reminds me how much I hate this job.

Once a week, she'd assign this to me. Honestly, I think I've cleaned more than a housewife. Aren't there _detergents _or something for this, instead of soap and water?

Why _am _I helping her, anyway? Why'd I have to get a guilt trip now of all times? I should be playing video games and laughing at her when she comes back, filthy.

I should be mocking her derisively, in the very least, standing in the doorway and cracking the whip like she did. I should be heartless like her…only, I know now she isn't heartless. She's just a little mixed up.

The good thing is, if I focus on this, I don't have to look at her. If I don't have to look at her, I don't have to think about why we're here.

Scrub, scrub, scrub. Let the scrub replace my thoughts, replace everything. There's only me and the sponge, nothing else. There's certainly no babysitter in the room who has a thing for me and could be pleasant on the eyes.

Ew! And again, ew! Why do I have to attract the weirdos? Why can't I get the only girl I want?

I mean, I've tried everything I could think of and she still doesn't like me. What do I have to do, cut off my ear and send it to her in the mail? I'd do that…if it didn't mean I'd be bleeding from the head and in danger of dying from bloody loss. Plus, you know, having only one ear to hear would really suck.

Not even wishing her to be my girlfriend works…for that long. Magic can't create a love that isn't there to begin with. Why? Why can't she like me back?

Glancing up for a split second, my eyes meet Vicky's. Now that's a girl I'd never want to like me back, if I were under the influence (be it magic or something else) or not. Why me? Why can't it be Trixie?

Pain flickers in her eyes as well and I drop my head. Why am I complaining, anyway? At least Trixie's my age.

Any way you look at it, it must suck to be Vicky. She's got all this money and all this power, but she's still not happy. The only person she likes, really likes, and he's six years her junior. Yeah, if that person wasn't me, I'd pity her.

I stretch out too far and my sponge runs into my toothbrush. Other than that, I give her no indication I'm paying the slightest bit of attention to her. If she wants me so badly, then it must bug her that I'm ignoring her.

Let her be bugged. Let everything bother her, because I don't care, right? But if that's true, then why am I helping her? Why am I here in the first place?

And why can't I stop thinking about the fact she said she loves me? Tootie's saying it never made me start obsessing over those three words, so why should her sister saying it do that? It must be because it's so unexpected and I don't know how to deal with it. Yeah, that's it.

I'm glad that neither of us are speaking. Leave her to her own thoughts and me to mine. Maybe she ought to think of a way to stop liking me. That'd make us both happy.

A smirk rises to my face and I turn in her direction to tell her this. However, the jibe dies on my lips as I find myself studying her yet again. She's by the tub, scrubbing the daylights out of it as though hoping to see something else there. At least, I think that's what she's doing, since I'm not going to go ask her.

Right now, though, I kind of wonder what she _is _thinking. Did everything she put me through have some sort of hidden meaning? What was she thinking while she was making me mow the lawn or wash the car? Was she (gross!) checking me out?

Who on earth falls in love with a kid that young? How sick is that? And yet, I almost pity her. This could be at the root of her cruelty. Maybe…maybe I'm the reason she treats the world like crap.

"Vicky?" I call, beginning to wonder if my theories were true. Hopefully, she'll tell me that I'm completely delusional and she's always been this nasty. I have nothing to do with her acting like this, right?

Coming from the other side of the room but, it sounds as though it might as well come from the other side of the world, Vicky replies, "Yeah?"

Weird, she's not yelling at me. Her tone's actually _soft_. Could she be nice again? Could she actually turn out to be not that bad?

Why am I giving her all these chances? Why do I keep thinking that there's some sort of redemption for her? Why do I think she's a _human being_ instead of a monster?

Before I know it, I bark out, "Never mind!"

Shutting her up should shut up my stupid brain. It's worth a shot, isn't it? If I can keep returning to the idea that Vicky might be forever on guard, I can shut myself up. It's like meditation, only work related. Inner peace and all that junk.

Only, I can't concentrate on work, either. Damn it; get out of my head, Vicky! Why do I have to keep thinking about you?

Again, completely without planning, I fling the sponge at her and it strikes her face. Suds and grime rub off on her cheeks before it falls to the cold floor. Good, if she's ugly again, then I can stop thinking she looks nice with her hair down like that.

Ugh, there I go again. Better get out of here before I really start to lose it- and by 'it', I mean my sanity.

Swallowing hard, I slam the door hard and lock it. Fine, leave her, the sponge, and my thoughts in there. See if I care.

No sounds emanate and I return to my video game, satisfied. Out of sight, out of mind. At least, I hope so.

"Stupid Vicky."

>>>


	5. Exhibition

Disclaimer: Fairly Oddparents is not mine.

Chapter Five: Exhibition

There, she was finally done with the last bit in the bathroom. Then again, knowing him, he'd probably give her another dozen chores to do, each more daunting than the last. He wouldn't be satisfied until he either caused her to beg him to stop or she collapsed, whichever one came first.

She'd known, of course, that he hated her, but she hadn't known the full extent of it until just now. Instead of feeling somewhat glad, she felt morose. A large, gaping hole threatened to encroach upon her heart and it was with leaden feet that she approached his room to ask if he wanted her to do anything else.

Despite their age differences, she couldn't keep from entertaining hopes that somehow, mysteriously, he'd fall for her. It'd be the greatest thing in the world, plus, she could finally discard of her charade. Yes, she was vicious and cruel, but she didn't have to be all the time. She wanted to be her true self, but, around Tootie and the world, that was impossible. Always, she had to keep her guard up and remain focused on the here and now, why she couldn't be soft and gentle for once.

Or, maybe now that the cat was let out of the bag, she could be. She could show Timmy just how much she loved him, if it didn't creep him out to hear it. Just thinking about that aspect caused her heart to further descend into the all-encompassing black void.

Gingerly, she knocked on his locked door and waited, all her previous anger and impatience subsided. In the light of his blackmail, she found herself uneasy and unable to focus on her defenses, therefore leaving herself prone to attack. Everything, when thought about, could be looked at from a military angle and, at the moment, she was losing the war- badly.

"Timmy?" She called, one side of herself cursing the fact she used his real name. Okay, well, not his _real _name, but his nickname. What right did she have to call him that? For the longest time, it was the twerp, nothing more. He still hated her, so why would he want her to call 'Timmy'?

A muffled sound, then a curse (she assumed from him, although, around him, it was awfully hard to tell), then, after what felt like a century, he opened the door and peered at her. Despite the fact he was smaller than she, she still cowered somewhat. He held all the power right now and he wasn't inclined to permit her to forget.

"What do _you _want?" Timmy snapped, folding his arms across his chest. Wow, she'd never realized how bizarre it was that a fifteen year old wore a pink shirt. Then again, this was one of the things she found attractive. (If he knew that, he'd probably wear all black).

Swallowing a nasty reply yet again, she glanced in to see Timmy's goldfish 'talking' to each other and the video game system on pause. Leave it to him to act as though nothing big was going on, as though she confessed her love for him every day of the week. That stung more than she could say.

"Got any other nasty jobs you want to saddle me with?" She grumbled, sensing her shields rising again. For God's sakes, she wasn't Tootie! She didn't scream at him how much she adored him whenever she could!

"As a matter of fact, I do!" Timmy countered, his eyes flashing in anger. Cautiously, she backed up. Hatred she could handle (since he displayed it every day), but hatred in the light of her confession, that was a different story. She'd exposed a little bit of her soul to him, didn't that mean anything?

"Well, what are you waiting for! Go on and exploit me already!" She screeched, sorely tempted to shove him into something. Make him hurt, make him cry out, then he'd know what it was like to see the result of her actions reflected back at her. Okay, so that particular thought had seen better days.

She truly did deserve the way he treated her, didn't she? But that didn't mean she didn't think he had a heart. Surely, sooner or later, he'd call this off and finally deal with reality. Shoving her away wasn't going to do any good.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the pink eyed goldfish give her a particularly odd look. She halted in her swimming patterns and studied her. No, she was going crazy. Goldfish definitely did not understand anything that was going on.

The green fish halted too, but only because his partner had stopped. His eyes took in his fish wife and his lower lip quivered. No! This was ridiculous too! Fish couldn't get married, they couldn't examine things, and they weren't human!

Timmy's eyes followed hers and he paled. She frowned, wondering if he himself had a weakness she could exploit. If he did, that let her off the hook, didn't it? Freedom!

"My goldfish aren't going to help you with your chores," He spat suddenly and, pulling out a list that fell to the floor and rolled out past her feet, shoved it at before slamming the door in her face.

Okay, what was _that _about? _Did _Timmy Turner have something to hide? Was it worth more than her secret?

She didn't know, but she was going to find out, one way or another.

…

Cosmo finally left her alone long enough to think. However, since, courtesy of Timmy, she couldn't speak, she was left alone to marvel at Vicky. It'd been quite a while…

While time was inconsequential to a fairy, she remembered their first meeting as though it were yesterday. How could she have known that the small, bubbly, presumably only child then would become the cruel, vindictive, older sibling that babysat her godchild? When she'd seen her, she'd had the biggest shock in her life, aside from some other unpleasant business with Juandissimo. Hmph, jerk.

Still, it hadn't been entirely unpleasant to see her and see if the prediction she'd made oh-so long was true. Although she was strictly forbidden to tell anyone of her visions, lest they try to abuse her power, and Cosmo himself didn't know she could predict things every so often, she'd taken an interest in this girl. (As a matter of fact, not even Jorgen recalled she had precognition, but that was something else entirely).

Despite the fact she was rude, abrasive, and callous, Wanda sensed her true self lurking somewhere belong, desperate to be released if only someone had the proper keys. She hadn't realized Timmy fulfilled the prophecy until she noticed how he had the ability to push her buttons. Yes, Vicky hated every child, but Timmy really did a stellar job of causing her to hate him, and, after a while, anyone who really thought about it (and had the knowledge she did) could tell why. It was sad when people put up barriers like that to keep others out, but she could tell the reasoning behind it. In a way, she pitied her. However, her pity only went so far.

A smirk flitted across her face as she thought about how Timmy would react if he knew that she'd prophesized this. Then again, she wasn't nearly foolhardy enough to unleash such a potentially dangerous brand of magic on someone who had endangered the Earth many times and nearly killed himself numerous times with a stupid wish. No, this would stay with her.

But she'd enjoy watching it play out. When all was said and done, then perhaps she could reveal a little insider knowledge. As for now, she'd keep her mouth shut.

…

Tootie, left alone blissfully, wandered around her house. She was bored, what with her shrine idea petering out and her obsession beginning to fade with him. After all, no one could remain ten forever.

By reflex, she sped past Vicky's room, but, not without accidentally flipping the light switch. Everyone in the house knew there was one light switch and one dummy switch. The first one usually produced an unpleasant reality, so they avoided it. And, by sheer dumb luck, she'd unlocked it.

Candles lit the room and, gasping, Tootie drew back. Things she'd slowly noticed being stolen from her shrine had reappeared here. In fact, things she hadn't seen in years were here.

Why would Vicky steal her things, though? Creeping closer, she examined it and came to the only reasonable conclusion. Unfortunately, it was far from the one she wanted.

Sitting down hard on her sister's bed, she gaped open mouthed at her sister's collection of Timmy pictures, Timmy memorabilia and, as she jumped up as if stung, Timmy bedspread and pillows. All of these things had vanished from her room years ago and, now, here they were. A shudder coursed through her.

"No…no way in hell…" Panting for breath, Tootie remained a few more seconds in her sister's room before running out, screaming.

…

Vicky scrubbed the kitchen floor until her hands were raw. Then, she cleaned the gutters, took out the garbage, washed the dishes, mopped the floor, vacuumed, and everything else on Timmy's list. By the time she was done, she was exhausted.

Dragging herself to the sofa, she collapsed and fell into an awkward sleep. Unfortunately, this too was not without dreams.

…

Whenever she chose, she could guest star in dreams. Besides, this was the only way she could really talk to her without risking discovery. Cosmo had been foolhardy enough to get them discovered years ago, she wasn't going to risk letting him join her in dreams.

In dreams, she needn't shed her fairy form. However, to add mystique, she waved her wand once and recreated the grounds where she and Vicky had first met. Maybe she could write it off as something her subconscious brought to the surface.

Again, she was the fortune teller, but, now, she floated above the ground. Darkness struck the grounds and lit up the crown on her head. Enter the babysitter.

Vicky strode the grounds and hugged herself for warmth. Despite the fact Wanda had deliberately made it a balmy night, she knew recalling this had to be slightly creepy. For that she apologized, but she couldn't control her reactions.

"Ugh, why am I back _here_? Why aren't I dreaming of kicking Timmy Turner's ass?" The redhead snarled, rubbing her arms, full of goose pimples.

Smiling serenely, but discontent with her vulgarity, Wanda floated in front of her. Vicky backed up immediately, for some unseen reason afraid of her. Well, that was odd. Dragons she could understand (for she herself feared them), but a fairy? Especially a fairy as sweet as her? That was odd.

"You've grown up a bit since I saw you last," Wanda replied, waving her wand again and turning into the fortune teller she knew. She wanted her to remember some of this, in the very least. If it was unpleasant for her, she'd strive to forget.

Trembling, the redhead merely nodded. Perhaps it wasn't her form that frightened her but the memory of this place. Here, she'd learned far too early what her future was, but, she hadn't any idea of the power it held over her.

"Go away!" Vicky gasped, shoving her. Wanda held up her wand and the girl bounced harmlessly off.

"You cannot possibly hope to get him to even tolerate you if you do not tell him what made you the way you are now. You think he hates you, but he knows nothing more than hatred. You have not given him any other emotions to consider regarding you."

Very gently, she placed a hand on the teen's shoulder and Vicky regarded it with mistrust. This was another problem, but a problem for a different time, regretfully. Cosmo would notice her absence soon enough.

"You must be true to the person you were when I met you, not who you think society can fear. If you are not, Timmy will never love you."

Terrified, Vicky cried out, "Who _are _you?"

But, with a poof, the dream ended and the pink fortune teller vanished.

…


	6. Excuses

Disclaimer: Fairly Oddparents is not mine, so don't sue!

Chapter Six: Excuses

I wish she still hated me. More than anything, I wish I could turn that, well, whatever it is into the same sort of feelings I share for her. (Up until now, I assumed they were reciprocated).

Hatred is so easy to understand, considering I've dealt with it for over six years. Looking at her, all I can see is hatred, at least, what I'm used to seeing. Now I'm not entirely sure what it is I'm supposed to see or how I'm supposed to interpret it.

Sure, I continue to hate her, but that's not all that I feel towards her anymore. A sense of pity fills me, for certain, but also…no; I'm not going to say it. It's bad enough that I ate lunch late; I don't need it returning to me.

How long has she harbored this thing for me? How long has she hidden behind the mask of lies and shoved me into chores so she didn't have to look at it?

Pounding my controller fails to take my mind off it. I'm losing dismally, but that's beside the point. (Also is the fact that I've played this game a thousand times before and never lost once). The point is that she's completely obliterated any chance I had of having a clear thought in my head.

I want to stop thinking about her, I really do, but now I have to reinterpret everything she said to me over the past six years. How much of it was secret flirting? How much did she pretend to dislike or enjoy? Moreover, when we were trapped in the cavern, what did she have to say to me before the pizza guy showed up?

She was sixteen then, for gods' sake. Could she have found me attractive even then? Did she look at me, as a ten year old, and think, 'gee, he's hot'? Okay, I'm grossing myself out here, but that's a good point.

Is it just me that she looks at or does she see other kids like that too? Could she have seen Chester and A.J. in the same light? Or does she make an exception just for me?

What prompted her to say that, anyway? She never apologizes; much less admit to something as painful as that. Maybe she thought it was time…or, maybe, she accidentally blurted it out. Come to think of it, that's probably it.

In the distant background, I can hear my character dying an excruciating death, complete with screams and wails. Absent mindedly, I flick the restart switch on the game yet don't pay attention to the opening credits. Vicky's still on my mind, much to my disgust. I haven't been this obsessed with a girl since Trixie Tang in the fifth grade.

Ah, Trixie Tang, the former love of my life. I wish I could say I've entirely given up hope of making her mine, but I haven't. Then again, I've slowly come to realize my chances of scoring her (or even scoring _with _her) are rather slim. Still, I entertain the hopes she'll come off her high horse and pursue me for a change, however unlikely that prospect is.

Tootie, too, has toned down her pursuit. I know she still has the crush, because she brings it up every once in a while, but it's not as a big a thing. We both acknowledge she has it, but that's about as far as that one goes. She just isn't my type (whatever my type happens to be, because after Trixie, I'm not entirely sure I have one, other than pretty, rich, and shallow).

Heh, that's ironic. Other than the pretty part, Vicky fits that stereotype very well. Okay, so I'll admit that maybe she has her moments when she actually resembles a human being (rare though they are) and maybe she can be attractive if looked at in the wrong light (and believe me, it's a very wrong light indeed). Ugh, am I actually considering the idea of finding Vicky anything other than repugnant? Bad thoughts, bad thoughts.

Maybe I should talk this over with my godparents. They'll probably say it's just a reaction to my finding out that Vicky likes me and my trying to compensate my own hatred for her. Well, Wanda will say that, Cosmo will just say something stupid.

Or, rather, Wanda _would _say that, but she's been rather down lately. I don't know what it is, nor does Cosmo. She barely says a word to us all through the day and, when we catch her thinking about things for hours at a time, she claims it's nothing we can help her with. Cosmo's torn between thinking she's obsessing over Juandissimo and concern that she's depressed. It'd be cute if he weren't worried on one hand and accusing her on the other.

Right now, she's just swimming listlessly and Cosmo nudges her from time to time. I'm not sure what he's trying to accomplish, other than receiving a languid whack with her fin, but it's not working. She hardly pays any attention to him…and she's staring into space again. Jeez, Wanda, what's up with you?

Just as my character dies for the umpteenth time today (and I realize just now that I didn't press anything, the game started automatically and I let myself be beaten to death), someone knocks on the door. Of course, I know it's Vicky and, of course, I'm immediately resentful of her knocking on my door. Didn't I give her enough chores? Why can't she just vanish or something? It'd make everything a whole lot easier.

Leering at the door, I wonder whether or not I should open it. If I leave her out there, banging like a maniac, I'll probably get a headache. If I don't, then I'll have to contend again with the fact that my psychotic babysitter has a crush on me. Neither prospect sounds entirely enthralling.

"Timmy?" She calls, sounding like a pathetic little kid. I almost laugh, and then I remember I _was _that pathetic little kid. Still, it bugs me slightly that she isn't calling me twerp. What right does she have to use my real name? Only my friends and family call me that.

"What do _you _want?" I snap back, opening the door and leering at her. Her slight frame retreats slightly at my anger and I scowl. Stop feeling sorry for me, stop whatever the hell it is you're doing and get your backbone back. Scream at me, yell at me, act _normal_. I can't handle a nice Vicky when it's born out of fear and not magic.

Her eyes fall upon my goldfish bowl and I follow them, noting that Cosmo's attempting to draw Wanda into a conversation. She merely answers in monosyllabic replies, her eyes focused on Vicky. Wait, why would she be looking at Vicky? Unless, of course, she's going to give me a lecture about treating people right and all that. Sometimes, I agree with Cosmo- she _is _a nag.

A hurt look flits across her face and, immediately, unconsciously, I feel pity for her. An idea of comforting her flits across my mind and I curse mentally, wondering why these thoughts should afflict _me_. Let Tootie comfort her, she's her sister. Why do I have to be left to it?

Before long, anger at my former pity surges and I snap back, ""What do _you _want?"

I fold my arms over my chest and my pink t-shirt, which I still wear every once in a while. I can't really wear it to school, lest kids call me gay again. That was one horrible week, although, at least Trixie stood up for me. There's no way I could be gay when I'm trying to get her to date me every other week.

"Got any other nasty jobs you want to saddle me with?" She grumbles and I can see in her eyes that her mental shield has gone up. Fine, let it, I don't care. Let her be as bitchy as she wants, because that at least I know. Icky Vicky, not sweet and innocent (and non rhyming) Vicky.

"As a matter of fact, I do!" I counter, firing back at her angry attitude with some hatred of my own. Maybe hers isn't hatred, but I'm not inclined to find out. Never tickle a sleeping dragon, never annoy a fire fae, but, most of all, never ask a psychotic girl if she has the hots for you.

"Well, what are you waiting for! Go on and exploit me already!" She screeches, reminding me of the 'good ole days', like yesterday, when I thought everything was, well, not normal, but as it should be. Jeez, I actually _miss _her torturing me.

She's still looking at my goldfish, but especially Wanda, who's taken a pointed interest in her. Cosmo can't force her away, can't break her concentration. He's taken a block of cheese instead and munches it, his worries fading with the Swiss.

I really wish she'd stop eyeing my fish like that. I hope she doesn't know something about them…because if she does, I'm in more trouble than she is at the moment. I can't risk losing them, they're all I have.

"My goldfish aren't going to help you with your chores," I spit suddenly, retrieving an extensive list of chores. This ought to keep her from coming back, not to mention to stop looking at my fish like that. Unless she answers, 'yes, they will', then I'll know for certain that she has no idea of their true potential.

Then, I shove the door shut in her face and return to my video game. Finally, some peace and quiet. Time to think of how I'm going to keep my mind from returning to her again. Damn, never mind.

…

Replies to reviews!

**Squirrel Tamer**- Yes, we are dealing with a particularly stubborn teenager. (smirks and points to Trixie Tang) That answer your question?

Um, you're welcome, my dear. Now, if only that poster could get me out of the mundo paper I have due in two days.

Yes, a lot of people know things that they didn't know previously…and yes, here's Timmy-kun's part. I apologize if I'm not overly enthusiastic. You wouldn't be either if you had a paper worth two test grades.

**Yeah Loi**- Tootie's more likely to become psychotic, but you'll see more of that next chapter.

**MisterBlue**- You _know _I'm stressed when I'm not jumping at your name, Blue. And good, fear Toot. Too many people underestimate her.

Now you know what Timmy was thinking…and I have to get back to that damn paper. This chapter'll end up going up in an hour, if I'm lucky.

**Jentastic**- Yeah, apparently, this stunned a lot of people when I wrote Vicky like this. And I will.

**Spiritual Magic**- No, he can't. Sorry.

**Moonjava**- Now, my dear, it appears as though you are the one who is ne'er online. How are you and your mermen? (winks)

My fae's hanging in there.

And thanks for reviewing.

**alisha120058**- You know, every time I see "V/T", I think of Veronica and Timmy. I swear to God.

And thank you…we only hope Tootie doesn't murder her sister…

**Chibi-Kazooie**- Here, have a Vicky plushie. Also, you get my Psych teacher's plushie, complete with anal rentiveness. She'll assign you a 40 page paper in a few seconds and you'll have to b.s. it all. Have fun!

**TALno-ruru12**- I've got news for you, sweetie- nearly everyone in FOP needs therapy. Blech, therapy, that brings back bad memories.

Um, thanks for reviewing, although I'm not sure who you're quoting in your review.

**Stargirl**- Well, thank you.

(snickers at the irony at the fact there's "Stargirl" followed by "Robina". Maybe I'm the only one who gets this one).

**Robina**- Yes, it is indeed a weird pairing. Want to know something also weird? I went through three different versions of this chapter.

Who else could the pink haired gypsy have been? Cupid? Seriously…although I wonder why it was such a mystery.

Ironically, the pink gypsy started out as a random gypsy and not as Wanda.

Thank you to everyone that reviewed and please continue to do so. And if you're reading and not reviewing, please review. I really do appreciate it.


	7. Exploration

Disclaimer: Fairly Oddparents is not mine, but, if you're in the States and reading this, new ep on Saturday! "Blondas Have More Fun/F.L.A.R.G."…Wanda's the star of the first one! (cheers)

Oh, and I dedicate this chapter to Blue. Happy b-day!

Chapter Seven: Exploration

There, that was it; she'd finished the last chore on his damn list. Now, if she could just rest for one second without Timmy finding another excuse not to talk to her, she'd be eternally grateful. Yes, she realized she deserved this treatment for being cruel to him, but that didn't mean he had to shove her away like this. He was just avoiding her and they both knew it. Sooner or later, he'd have to deal with the facts, whether or not he chose to admit the truth.

Placing a cold, wet, blue washcloth over her sweaty brow, she blinked at a painting in Timmy's living room. Well, she certainly hadn't noticed that and she'd been here for going on six years. In fact, she didn't recall it upon entering his house this afternoon (what a long afternoon that seemed now). Well, that certainly was peculiar.

She sat up on the couch and scrutinized it. If she concentrated on one area, it looked like the gypsy, but that was ludicrous. Moreover, why was she suddenly so fixated on her? Could it be that in the light of her confession, things suddenly shone themselves with crystal clarity? She certainly wished Timmy's reaction would do so instead of him avoiding her like that.

There certainly was an air of pink about the piece, at any rate, and her mind flashed back to the pink goldfish in Timmy's bowl. Those same two fish had lived for six years, quite an extraordinary lifetime for a couple of fish. In fact, she recalled flushing them when he was twelve. Unless the store sold an extraordinary amount of pink and green eyed goldfish, then something was up.

And it wasn't just goldfish, she recalled now. When he'd run the lemonade stand when he was ten, a pink cat had trailed after him. Then, when he'd been on the basketball team, pink and green balls were in play. And he always wore a green helmet and rode a pink skateboard. Plus, that crazy Crocker chased after him more often than he did anyone else.

Not to mention when her sister was eleven, some weird things had happened around her on her eleventh birthday, involving a pink horse and a green chariot. There was a distinct pattern of pink and green around Timmy Turner and he always acted like he was hiding something. Could all the pink and green things be related? It was a distinct possibility.

In addition, if she could dig up some dirt on Timmy, then she'd regain the upper hand she'd sorely missed. She could finally answer the question once and for all- was he hiding something? And, if so, what?

_Just you wait, Timmy Turner. I'm going to find out your secret and when I do, the tables will turn. I'll make you wish you'd never started this, _Vicky thought, never fully realizing the irony in her words.

Casting aside the wet washcloth, she scrutinized the painting more closely than before, rising to eye it. The figure within, a pink gypsy, only a glimmer of her eyes shining behind a turban, blinked. No, wait, she couldn't have blinked. Paintings simply did not blink. It defied all laws of logic.

Then again, around Timmy Turner, a lot of things defied logic. How on earth did he manage to escape her clutches so often? Moreover, now that she was on the track of pink and green items, hadn't he used a pink scrubber and a green detergent to clean the toilet? One time, she'd seen pink and green dogs following him.

There were entirely too many pink and green things/animals surrounding him and she narrowed her eyes. The figure within did not move, but, if she correctly analyzed her body language, she was trembling slightly. Figures in paintings did not move…unless this was not a mere painting.

Seizing it by the edges, Vicky shook it and, with an evil grin, removed it from the wall. Peculiarly, there was no nail behind it. Well, she'd figure that out later; for now, she laid it down on the couch and lit the fireplace.

Meanwhile, within the picture, the pink gypsy appeared to be sweating profusely. Examining the picture again, she'd shifted position somewhat and was holding herself slightly different. Unless this was one of those electronic paintings, there was something, well, magical in nature.

Grabbing the lower right side of the wooden frame, she held it in front of the fire and waited. Ah, she adored fire. It had such destructive powers. Besides, in a matter of seconds, she'd discover if Timmy Turner's secret lay within the oil.

Smoke filled the room, more smoke than should be emitted and Vicky coughed, accidentally dropping the painting. Acrid smoke burned the inside of her throat and her lungs and she dropped to her knees as the painting, unnoticed, vanished. When it had finally cleared, both the fire and the painting were gone. What on earth?

Waiting until she could breathe again safely, she cast a disdainful look upstairs, to Timmy's room. When she got her hands on that boy…no, wait, she had a better idea. She'd abduct one of his fish and see if it vanished like the painting.

An insane burst of laughter erupted from her followed suit by another. Yes, it was the perfect plan. _Timmy Turner, hold your fishes!_

…

Despite having little else in common other than the same last name, blood type, and lifelong obsession with buckteeth, pink hat, Tootie now shared another similar trait. Her thinking was about as rational as Vicky's right now, perhaps less. Anger shook her frame and, even though her house was a mere four houses down from Timmy's, she discovered she had to stop before a derisive howl of fury escaped her.

After all that time, she simply could not, _would _not accept that her sister, the bane of her existence, the harbinger of doom, was in love with _her _Timmy Turner. Moreover, that she'd dare to try to move in on _her _territory...and, with a sinking heart, she realized they'd spend an infinitely greater time together more than she had with her beloved. He could have told her a while ago and they could be a couple right now.

There were six bloody years in between their ages, didn't she know that? But, given the daily regiment of fear she had, Timmy could be with her merely because she'd forced him into it. She could be doing unspeakable, unthinkable things to him right now. No matter the personal risk to herself, she had to prevent that from happening.

Thinking for her had become a rather irrational process. Her thoughts jumped about like wildfire. At first, she found herself protective over her precious Timmy, then, angry at Vicky for both liking him and trying to steal him away and possibly using force to connive her way to his heart; finally, trepidation that she might actually have him in her clutches and he _liked _it. That there was no chance for her, no one to love her.

Packed in her gear was a pair of binoculars, her mini shrine, and, today, a special addition. Although she had no intention of hurting Vicky, should the circumstance arise and her sister attacked her first, she would be prepared. Besides, Vicky enjoyed torturing her. If Timmy had indeed succumbed incurably to Vicky's malevolence, what did she have to lose? Her life? Ha, pointless anyway.

She could see her sister in the living room window and watched her burn, or, rather, attempt to burn a painting. Well, the good news was if she'd already won Timmy over, then burning a painting in their house wouldn't make much sense. The bad news was that smoke filled the room and, for a split second, she lost the ability to see into his house.

Approaching slowly, holding her nose lest she inhale the smoke, she tried the door, found it open, and slid inside. Once there, she hid behind the couch and decided her next plan of attack. It wouldn't do to come at Vicky right away, when she had no evidence of anything and absolutely no plan.

Instead, she'd wait, like a hawk scoping out its prey, her chest rising and falling swiftly. Perhaps the perfect moment would not elude her, as it had in the past. _The time is nigh to strike, sister dearest_.

Then, in mocking, derisive laughter heard only by her and the nearest dust bunnies, Tootie laughed insanely.

…

Wanda returned to the fishbowl completely covered in soot. The soot floated off her and smothered both her and her poor, befuddled fishy husband. Before she waved her wand, sending the soot to wherever unneeded devices went, Cosmo choked, clinging to her as best as he could consider his fins were insufficient and their bodies were both rotund.

"Wan-Wanda, where _were _you?" Cosmo choked, despite the fact the soot was gone. Waving her wand again, she dispelled all remaining soot from his lungs. (He'd never think to do this on his own, tragically).

What was she to tell him? That she'd been spying on Vicky in a painting and the redhead had tried to set her on fire? Well, actually, that would do well. Just play it off with a lie and Cosmo would buy it, hook, line, and sinker.

Still, she felt awful for lying to him all the time. He didn't know she could occasionally see the future; no one did, other than her very dead Divination teacher. Knowing Cosmo, he'd try to exploit it, but it didn't work like that. She couldn't pick and choose what she saw. Sometimes, it just came to her when she saw someone, like when she'd spotted Vicky in the carnival on that fateful day.

She could still see things in her, things she kept private, but as long as Vicky vehemently denied them, there was little she could do to help from the sidelines. The girl had to realize these things about herself _by _herself, without any aid. She had to realize she could be pleasant and nice if she really tried…and, as everyone else knew, she could be a real malcontent, cantankerous teen when she opted to.

Sneaking up behind her and catching her off guard, Cosmo swam up to her and kissed her on the cheek. Ever since she'd started this, trying to fathom how to either keep Vicky from harming Timmy inevitably or perhaps helping her out, she'd unconsciously avoided Cosmo. This was to protect her _own _secret, so long a mystery to everyone. Still, she could tell that it bothered him, so he'd stepped up to the plate. Every time she stared into space, he'd kiss her, massage a wing, or wrap his arms around her. It was all very sweet, but, at the moment, all very unwanted.

"Wanda, how come you don't talk to me anymore?" Cosmo whined, yanking on her tailfin and trying to lure her to their castle underwater. He yearned to be in his fairy form (albeit a great deal smaller) and yearned for her to speak with him. Despite his occasional selfishness, pigheadedness, and cruelty, she could tell he loved her and he couldn't stand being shut out of any area of her life.

"Not now," She answered, reduced to her quick, brisk sentences. She could see Timmy throwing away his controller in disgust and, after fixing them a peculiar look, darted out the door and slammed it hard. How she hoped he was going to at least talk to Vicky, but she could only hope, nothing more. It was improbable for him to cease loathing her in the immediate future.

Torn between his wife and his godson, Cosmo's short attention fixed upon the shut door and he stared. Sighing heavily, Wanda floated away from him. When he turned around, she was gone.

…


	8. Excruciating

Disclaimer: Fairly Oddparents is not mine. If it were, I'd make sure it was back on at seven o'clock. This vexes the fae.

Chapter Eight: Excruciating

I sit, glaring at the wall sullenly. In the far back of my mind, I can hear what sounds like someone hissing. I ignore it, since I'm far too angry at something else to bother with the nonsense on the street.

Vicky bustles around the kitchen and prepares me some tea. However, there's a nasty smile on her face that I don't like and a peculiar look in her eyes to boot. I don't know what she's up to, but I bet it's nothing good. It didn't take her long to take advantage of me, did it?

"There aren't any pink and green tea pots," She cackles and I jump suddenly. What on earth did she mean by _that_ crack? Why does she keep turning her head to look at me and the table and then turn away, frowning?

I wonder where Cosmo and Wanda are, although, with the way she's looking, I hope they're far from here. Maybe they're patching up whatever keeps bothering them, I don't know. I don't want them to be cold to each other; they're like my real parents, only fairies. (Sometimes I think I prefer them to my biological ones).

Slowly, she places my teacup in front of me and slides her finger delicately along my chin. I swallow hard, ignoring her flirtation and take a sip of the tea. It's rather strong, but, then again, you have to take in account the person that made it.

There's another surprise when I look at the contents, though. The cup itself is pink (but not Wanda) and the tea's green. She's definitely hinting, but I hope she hasn't the faintest clue what she's discovered. If she finds out my secret, my life as I know it is over…

"Do you remember what happened to those pink and green fish you had when you were twelve?" She starts, smirking at the addition of a pink magnet on the fridge. My eyes follow hers- Wanda. Why on earth does she keep popping up unannounced? It's like she's taken a vested interest in Vicky.

"Yeah…you flushed 'em and I got new ones," I fib easily, my eyes still focused on Wanda. She doesn't even look at me.

Lying has become a honed skill, unfortunately. It's the only thing I can do to prevent my eventual exposure. Then again, with Wanda creeping about, I wonder if she_ wants _to be discovered.

"Did you?" She asks and I frown. What, suddenly she's not buying it? C'mon, Vicky isn't _that _smart. I've outsmarted her more times than I can recall. If I say I got new fish, she shouldn't question me.

"New fish that look _exactly_ like your old ones? What about your pink and green skating equipment? Cats? Dogs? Shoes? Anything, you name it, you have it and it's pink and green. But you never see your pink and green dogs with your pink and green cats or your pink and green fish with anything else. Can you tell me _why_?" She snarls and I turn completely white. As a magnet, Wanda's coloration grows increasingly pale. She slides down the surface.

"Maybe because I'm renting them out?" I snap back, rising to my feet. Maybe if I distract her with something else, she'll get off this train of thought. The horrible thing is- if Vicky discovers Cosmo and Wanda, she might be able to get away with Jorgen not finding out about them. She could blackmail me, but make life miserable for my godparents.

"To _who_?" She growls, sliding her face right up to mine. "Tootie?"

There's a bang behind us and, fortunately, I discover that someone else has entered the house. Then again, that's where my relief ends. Tootie looks like she's going to murder someone.

Her hair's all disheveled, her eyes are wild and darting all over the place, and her fists are trembling in rage. I don't know who I'd like to deal with less right now- her or her sister. Both choices don't seem terribly pleasant.

"_You_!" Tootie growls, running across the room and flinging herself on Vicky. Within a few seconds, I can see that, unless I do something, she's going to kill her. Although Vicky could hardly be called unable to defend herself, Tootie's unpredictable, wild, even. As a matter of fact, her hands keep creeping towards her neck as though she'd like to strangle her.

I knew that Tootie and Vicky hated each other, but I didn't think it was _this _bad. Plus, what could have made Tootie react like this? She's yelling things, but none of them make any sense at all.

"Harlot!" Tootie screeches, yanking on that luxurious red hair and pulling it out by the roots. Wait, did I just call Vicky's hair _luxurious_? Great, just great. That's one more thing I need to worry about, being attracted to Vicky.

"You took Timmy!" There's a hint of hysteria in her voice as she slams Vicky's head down onto the carpet. At least it's a carpet…I guess. If it were the kitchen, that would hurt a lot more, but she tackled her backwards (she came in _from _the kitchen).

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but if you don't get your hands off me right now, I'll make you wish you were never born!" Vicky screams, spitting in her face and headbutting her. Tootie reels back and her sister grabs her about the midriff, slamming her down as hard as she can onto the tiles in the kitchen.

The pink magnet has become a dog and it growls at Vicky. I realize now why, though- Tootie's bleeding from the back of the head. They're not aiming to stun, they're aiming to really hurt each other.

The thought occurs to me that maybe I ought to, you know, get _involved_. As hot as two girls fighting over me is (and as tempting as it is to just let them go at it as I sit back and watch), this is Vicky and Tootie we're talking about. Tootie, who doesn't really have a mean bone in her body and Vicky, whose body is entirely composed of mean bones. If I leave them like this, sooner or later we're bound to have a rather unpleasant outcome.

Not to mention the fact Wanda's growling at _me_. I take it by the look she has and the amount of cowering Cosmo's doing that the object of her anger shifted from Vicky to me in less time than it takes to say "I wish". What does she want _me _to do about this? Possibly get mauled by two homicidal girls bent on destroying each other to get my love? Man, that's so cool.

My lack of action, however, causes Wanda to jump into the foray herself. I can see the glazed expression on Cosmo's face- for him; the fight probably just jumped a notch on the hotness scale. I'm too busy looking at Vicky to really notice, though. I didn't realize it before, but when she's standing there, her chest heaving with exertion, her long red hair, dripping with sweat and dangling down her shoulders, she's actually really attractive. My heart skips a beat and I curse myself and, in that curse, my hormones as well. They've betrayed me again.

She smirks as she catches my gaze. Beckoning me with her eyes, she casually shoves Tootie away. We both know I'm only looking at her.

Interrupting my possibly hormone charged thoughts, Wanda growls, her pink eyes flashing dangerously. In the years when we ignored what she said and did whatever we wanted, she'd gotten a little more, er, physical with us. Of course, I know she'd never raise a hand to me, but that doesn't mean I'm let off the hook. Take right now, for instance. I think she'd sooner reveal herself to Vicky than let her murder her younger sister.

"Are you going to say something or just going to stand there with your mouth agape?" She barks, or, to any other human, what resembles a bark. Cosmo, still a magnet on the fridge, whimpers fearfully. Wanda angry is not a sight for the faint at heart.

Tootie, catching her breath, eyes her sister furiously. Her fists tremble to strike, but she sports a nasty bruise on both eyes. In a few minutes, they'll swell shut. Maybe she's got a point about my stepping in.

I wonder what made Tootie run in half-cocked, anyway. At any rate, I guess I'd better stop them unless I can get them to mud wrestle naked…er, never mind. I'll just stop them.

Before Tootie can swing (and Vicky can deliver a sweeping kick that knocks her off her feet), I jump in between them. Unfortunately, Tootie doesn't see me, the object of her rage being her sister, and accidentally socks me in the cheek. Although I'll never admit it to her, that girl can pack a punch. Maybe I shouldn't interrupt…

Oh, but Wanda's growling at me again. I guess she's figured out where my train of thought lies. She's awfully good at that.

"Timmy!" Tootie cries, broken out of her trance and none too soon. She rushes to me, to presumably cradle me, but I jump back. I'm only stopping a fight, nothing else. I'm not entirely sure what she's thinking (or if I want to know, for that matter), but she can leave me out of it.

"What do you think you're doing?" Vicky screeches, raising a fist to her younger sister. Quickly, I snatch the fist and hold it in my palm. I try to ignore the blood smearing; it'd be better for all of us if we could pretend she hadn't cut her lip.

Wanda growls again, but it's not at any of us. It's at Cosmo, who reluctantly disappears from the fridge unnoticed and turns into a dog at her side. All these mood shifts of hers have to be scaring the crap out of him. I'd help, but I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do. Besides, my own love life needs more attention than theirs right now.

"Protecting Timmy!" Tootie exclaims, always in those exclamation points. One of these days, she'll stop eating so much sugar. I swear…

Then again, maybe it isn't the sugar this time. Maybe it's the fact that she's so worked up about her sister and she can barely see straight. Come to think of it, that makes more sense.

"From who? _You_?" Vicky spits acidly, placing a hand on her well formed hip. Oy, why am I thinking this at a time like this? I wasn't even hit and I think I have a head injury.

"No, from the biggest pedophile in the history of Dimmsdale!" She snaps back and, out of the corner of my eye, Vicky pales. So she's figured out her secret; that would explain her behavior. However, she still attempts to uphold her façade, however feeble that is now.

"The pot calling the kettle black!" She snaps back, probably realizing the instant she said it how little sense it actually makes.

"Yeah, well, Timmy isn't _six _years younger than me. If you have sex with him, it's statutory rape, you know that?" Tootie hisses and, given the rapid color fleeing her sister's face, I get the impression she knows quite well. For the moment, she's been rendered silent.

And I just noticed I'm still holding her fist. Well, I'm actually facing Tootie and holding her fist, but the point's valid. Why on earth am I doing this, anyway? Maybe I should let go soon.

"Maybe we ought to talk about the pink and green items the twerp always has around him instead?" Vicky growls, changing the subject to one that causes _me _to pale. Tootie blinks, her eyes on Wanda. This time, she shakes her head vehemently. So Tootie _does _remember my godparents.

"Are you and Turner in cahoots?" She hisses, throwing my palm back and flinging me casually into Tootie. As the raven-haired girl's eyes are on my godparents, she catches me innately, barely responding.

You know, for a girl that just confessed her love for me, you'd think she'd be nicer. Or…not onto my secret.

Behind me, Tootie whimpers and, in unison, Cosmo and Wanda tear up the stairs and hide. I feel kind of bad for them, but not bad enough to pursue it. There are worse troubles.

"What's the matter, Turner, tongue-tied?"

I stare blankly at the wall. She knows I am. And she also might know something else, too.

Breaking away from Tootie, I dash up the stairs in Cosmo and Wanda's wake and shut the door, locking it about ten times. I'm safe in there, I think. Then again, safety's in the eye of the beholder, for, the moment I sit down and glance over at my befuddled fish, the door starts to splinter. I've never been in direr straits in my life.

A screech from the fishbowl, "No, Vicky, stop!"

…

**Will Cosmo and Wanda be found out? Will Tootie try to rip Vicky's throat out? Can Vicky ever regain the upper hand? Find out in the next chapter! (Yes, I _am _a bitch.)**


	9. Exception

Disclaimer: Oy, running out of "ex" words. And FOP doesn't belong to me.

Chapter Nine: Exception

Sometimes, when she looked at him, she forced herself to pretend this wasn't real. That if she just closed her eyes and wished very hard, she could stop being attracted to him. All the people she'd feigned to like had a few things in common; money and lots of it. Money was power and she adored power.

But then, that made sense, didn't it? The one that she truly loved, that she would do anything for but she'd never intended to tell, had neither of those. Against her, he was powerless and he was younger than her and not at all interested in commercial enterprises. He was innocent, like she'd been so long ago; she'd forgotten what it was like.

What was innocence but a lack of experience and raw awakening? Children thought the world was perfect until the glass globe, pieces scattering, crashed to the floor. When they realized the first, loudest scream was not outside but in their head. That no matter how hard they tried to avoid it, out run it, it was there. Pain, misery, and torture- if she didn't inflict them, then her memories would overwhelm her.

Naïve people, not necessarily children, thought that the world operated on gum drops and happiness. They didn't understand there was no such thing as happiness, only temporary delay of anger and upset. Anger was depression without the energy and happiness was misery with sedatives.

Timmy had always been miserable, just like her. In a way, this made him perfect for her. Both of them knew what it was to suffer at another's hands- she at her step father's, he at hers. She wanted him to know, more than anything, that unless you struggled against your destiny, it would hurt you more than you could ever imagine. Adults lied, they abused you, and they ripped out your still beating heart and trampled on it. If she let up on him, then the world would hurt him for her and she couldn't contend with that- she loved him too much to permit them to stab him in the back.

Right now, he held an aura, but not of power. No, never the red glowing aura of power. No, she could see it through the door, his upset. She was on the verge of something big and he was in a panic.

_Come, Turner, tell me your secret. An eye for an eye- you've always been burning to know why I'm such a bitch. You think it's just that I'm covering, but that isn't entirely it. It's why Tootie's so sweet and I'm so bitter. _

_She doesn't know true pain. She could never be my second in command because she's so damn naïve. She thinks that parents are telling you the truth about everything and they'll protect you. I tried to show her the truth, but she would have none of it. I'm through with her._

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a pink poof; she blinked, frowning slightly. Pink always reminded her of that gypsy, whom she'd kill for another chance to speak to. Had she ordained her life or did she know something only for the moment? Was she the reason she'd fallen in love with Timmy Turner? If she was, was she in for it…

"What's the matter, Turner?" Vicky snarled, pounding her fist on the door. Although she couldn't see it, she sensed Timmy draw back and vaguely heard him whisper to the green goldfish in the room. He spent more time talking to those fish than he ever had with a human. They reminded her of something, come to think of it. Shapeshifters, but that wasn't quite it…

Barking out a few more threats, she was stunned when a voice called her name. Out of nowhere, the gypsy appeared, clutching something beneath her robes. Its yellow point stuck out, but she swiftly covered it again. Like before, all she could see was her forehead, the curls framing her face, and those eyes glued to her face. Nervousness overtook her.

For a few moments, after the gypsy had her attention, silence reigned. Timmy held his breath in his room, the gypsy merely shook her head at her, and Vicky felt as though the ground had vanished beneath her and all she was left with was a fleeting image of how things were supposed to be. For a brief second, Tootie entered her head again, but only in regards to her being knocked out and locked into the broom closet downstairs. Somehow, she sensed deep disapproval, both for her past actions and for the present, from this figure.

Voice would not return to her and, as the door opened behind and Timmy poked his head out, his jaw dropping, Vicky stumbled. Normally, it didn't take her nearly this long to take control of her emotions, but she wove a spell unlike all others. It wasn't that she couldn't speak, but that she wouldn't. To speak in her presence was to relegate her to a position less befitting.

Barely audible, she heard Timmy whisper, "Wanda?"

This name held no significance for Vicky even as the gypsy inclined her head at him. So Timmy recognized her gypsy? But how? They'd never met, to her knowledge.

Anger replaced confusion quickly; she rarely stayed confused for long. How dare he take one of her memories! Was nothing sacred anymore?

"You have grown since I saw you last," Wanda intoned, moving towards her. Vicky retreated, bumping into a light switch. It jabbed her in the back, but she failed to notice.

If her eyes had fallen upon Timmy, she might have noticed his mind going a mile a minute. His eyes first hooked upon Wanda, then her, then the green goldfish still in his room. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what was going on, but he abstained. He hadn't come this far to lose what he most valued.

"But you are still ignoring your destiny."

Distantly, as though from another state, she heard the green goldfish smack into the glass in shock. What issued from his mouth resembled "T-Timmy?", but she ignored it. The gypsy was far more important.

"When you were five, I told you who you were to fall in love with and how to attain him. Perhaps the latter part has escaped your memory, but teaching him the ways of your step father, or, should I say, your _birth _father, will not prove anything. You cannot learn to love from someone that stole your mother's virginity and then landed himself in jail only to die a year after your younger sister's birth."

Vicky's face paled considerably and, finally, she found her voice. However, it was not as full of threats as she'd have liked it. Instead, trepidation and awe consumed her.

"How the hell do you k-know _that_?" She snapped, growling so weakly, a lion cub would have snickered.

"I also know that Tootie isn't your biological sister. The parents you believe you have are your aunt and uncle. Why else did you think they grew so terrified of you in such short a time?

"All that raw anger, all that resentment over what you ignored, you poured into Timmy. There were various excuses for your behavior, including a mean 'bug', 'empathy' not appearing, and simply not having a 'heart'. You have a 'heart', but you prefer to hide it, hoping that no one will care because you're too busy making their lives as miserable as yours was.

"This isn't to frighten you, to the contrary. It is just to remind you that if you continue in this path of destruction, then all will be for naught. You may love Timmy Turner, but if you shove him away, battering him mentally and physically, he will never love you back.

"The choice is yours." Very gently, she stroked her cheek and smiled weakly. At least, she presumed she smiled because it was rather hard to tell. It hardly mattered, though. The words had hit home.

"But if you do not care for him, I will." With that, she vanished, leaving Vicky, flabbergasted, staring into the hallway.

…

She knew she was the babysitter, but she couldn't stay in that house. Throwing all caution to the winds, she fled, the gypsy's words ringing in her head. Deep down, she knew her to be correct, but badly, she'd wanted her to be so wrong, it wasn't funny.

Tootie wasn't her sister; this was why she had never shown any sisterly affection towards her. Why dare fabricate what would never be present in the first place? Why waste her time on someone that was so obviously not related to her?

When she was five, she'd awakened from the worst nightmare in her life…but it was real. After she'd stopped shaking and taken control of herself, a man, the man she now called her father, had taken her out of there. He and her aunt raised her and, through sheer will alone, she'd forced herself to pretend they'd always been her parents. It was better than the alternative.

When Tootie was born, a girl that resembled her not at all, anger borne from frustration that these lies could never properly work and resentment that something good could come from a man that looked like her father and yet wasn't, sustained her. She spent the rest of her time devising plans to destroy Tootie's innate happiness and, since her happiness was directly related to Timmy, she'd sought to destroy him as well. Little did she suspect that this was the fated boy. Before she'd met him, she'd focused on obliterating Tootie's joy in the Timmy/Tootie equation, not at all concerned with him.

When she'd met him, just then she'd known that he was the one that her destiny had provided. She'd struck out at him, lashed out against her destiny, but was only trying to hurt the father that had left her with these confusing feelings. He was the only example of paternal love she had (because her uncle was too frightened). Bereft of the proper way to act, she couldn't settle herself around any guy, much less Timmy.

She had to stop running, though. Running had only gotten her into a bigger quandary than the truth. The truth would set her free…she had to be her real self, if that girl existed anymore. Well, she would soon find out.

…

**This was supposed to be a birthday gift for Squirrel Tamer, but it's a little late. I'm sorry, girl.**

**Oh! Before I continue, let me explain the whole Vicky thing. If you've read Once Upon a Fractured Fairy Tale, this has absolutely nothing to do with it. I like to vary my interpretations, plus I'd read something about the PC version of Breakin' Da Rules having a girl named Nicky, deemed Vicky's mother. Well, my argument is, if that's her mother, then Ricky is her father and since Ricky would never be frightened of his own daughter, they can't be her parents. Er…don't hit me for that one.**


	10. End

Disclaimer: I don't own FOP…for the last time in this story.

Chapter Ten: End

When she sits me down in Il Maestro, my eyes start to wander around the room. I can't help it- everywhere here holds some sort of memory, a recollection of what once was. Besides, the walls, filled with Italian art, invoke a sense of peace I don't get from focusing on her face. It's not that being alone with Vicky in the middle of a near empty restaurant has me spooked, but the fact that she told me she was going to be honest.

Personally, I didn't know she had that word in her vocabulary. Honesty has never been Vicky's best policy, particularly when it came to me. Then again, in the past few hours, she's exposed more of herself than ever before. Maybe she's figured out that it's the only way to win a war, or maybe she's just sick of lying. Whatever the case, it's led us to here, a table in the corner, a single red rose in a simple green vase in the center of the table, at the most popular Italian place in town.

Although the attire, for the most part, is formal, she managed to bribe her way in because, apparently, the words, like a dam about to burst, can't wait for a change of clothes. I can see it in her eyes, her past quaking like an unsound foundation, about to crumple and show its roots before me. For once, there are no holds barred- I could tell her anything I want to and, while her defenses are down, hammer her until she breaks. But I won't. Somehow, I think we've progressed past that without considering it.

Her eyes sweep the room along with me as she seeks a way to avoid telling the truth. However, unlike me, she truly does have something to hide. I should have realized the magic was a front, but how could I tell that Cosmo and Wanda couldn't tell me adult problems when I was a kid? How could I have guessed she felt this deeply about anything? How could anyone?

My name trembles past her lips, but she closes them tightly. Tightly drawn, her face expresses nothing, but her eyes speak volumes. Past, present, future, all concealed within one set of beautiful ruby eyes, shimmering in the candlelight.

Gently, unintentionally, her hand brushes mine- I'm tempted to shove my hand under the table, despite how cruel that might look. Today has been the rudest shock alive for both of us and I can't imagine any other way to deal with this than to run and hide. Still, I expect that probably won't work, because she's dead-set on telling me everything she can. You can't blame a guy for trying, though.

Tentatively, her pink polished nails skittering on the edge of the glass cover, she clutches my hand in hers. I can see the whiteness around her knuckles, the pallor behind her makeup, and I pity her. No one has ever risked so much for what might be considered so little. In admitting that she loves me and trying to pursue me, she's risking her babysitting empire, her relationship (if it exists, that remains to be determined) with her family, and the public's opinion of her. If they aren't open minded like she wasn't with them, then they'll pass bad judgment easily and she'll lose everything. I'm sure it wasn't her intent this morning to wake up and blurt out that she loves me, but here we are, clearly immersed in the world of her feelings. The odd thing is- I think I like it.

No sane guy would ever admit to liking Vicky, not if they didn't want their precious items in a vice grip as they screamed out in pain. She's not the type of person to take love well, if she can at all. That's probably why it surprised me so much to consider the possibility that she had any positive feelings at all. How can you expect a monster to sympathize when she's never shown anyone anything good?

When Vicky was nice, however brief (and almost nauseating) that was, was that her true self? Or is it somewhere in between? Can we be certain of what we've never seen if we only have magic to compare it with? I'm sure Wanda might know, but I don't think she's going to be talking to me for a while. I think Cosmo has a few questions he wants answered.

"Timmy," She whispers, the hand holding mine trembling somewhat. She's gripping it so tightly; I've lost all feeling in it. For once, she's not intentionally hurting me…not that she did in the past, come to think of it. All those threats and brandishing her fist at me as I performed meaningless, thankless tasks, she never once struck me. I guess no matter what, she couldn't bring herself to harm the person she loved (that doesn't really help Tootie, does it?).

Gently, I place my other hand atop hers, in both an attempt to pry mine away and to placate her. At least, that was the plan, but my hand ends up remaining there, sandwiching hers between mine. Her hands are surprisingly soft, belying her true nature. I wonder if there's anything else that's soft about her.

Heat rushes to her face and her mouth opens again. However, instead of professing what the hell's been going on for the past few years, she asks me something else that catches me completely off guard (and also causes me to glance towards the table as if expecting a pink salt shaker and a green pepper bottle). I've never been alone with Vicky without them there (albeit frozen once). I never realized how much I depended on them for security.

"How do you know the gypsy?" Possession marks her eyes as though she owns this magical being and I'm merely leasing it from her. In a way, I guess to her it must seem that way, that I've stolen part of her past that she'd dearly love to get back. It's not enough that I've invaded her life, stolen her heart, but now I have to ransack her past too? Again, pity strikes me, another weird emotion around her.

"She's-" The words die on my lips. No matter how honest she might be around me, I won't betray my godparents. Still, if a relationship is built on honesty, then…

Searching for words, I find my old lies haunting me. Wanda and Cosmo have been in human form only three times (if we count the gypsy) and I can honestly say that I can't figure out how to explain them to her. I can't call them my parents, like I did around Crocker, I can't tell her I know the gypsy because she does from wherever she knows Wanda, and somehow, telling her they're my parents' friends when they were only around for a short while doesn't seem to fit. I'm stumped.

"She's my godmother," I answer finally, biting my tongue. Jorgen doesn't appear to whisk me away to Fairy World; no magical vortex to tear me away from this world- I guess the magical word that I needed to have uttered was "fairy". Humans have godparents, after all. Besides, it's pretty much the truth, minus the fact that she can do magic. It's the extent of what I can tell her, anyway. She can't pull anymore with a crane.

Vicky nods, processing this. Her eyes close, but not before she moves her chair over and touches my face. It's the softest caress, short of maybe my parents and godparents, that I've experienced. More and more, I feel myself drawn in by the enigma that is her. She's got so many layers, so many half truths and hidden secrets.

Words tumble out of my mouth before I can properly stop them. I guess we've skipped the tongue tied stage, too, and are going straight to awkward, yet revealing conversation.

"She's my fairy godmother," She says, almost dreamily, and I think any sort of blood I had in my face and or the rest of my body has drained to somewhere, perhaps my feet. If I looked in the mirror, I might expect to see someone from a different program, because I resemble a ghost. Fortunately, her eyes are still closed and she can't see the effect those words just caused. If she could, I doubt she'd sit here so calmly.

"How could- what are you-?" I stammer, wishing I'd selected a better choice of words than that. Come on, Turner, there are hundreds of thousands of things you could have said, and you had to pick the ones that make you look like a jackass? At this rate, I'd be better off braying at her.

Cocking one eye open, she smirks at the pallor, the way my palms have started to sweat profusely, and, if she could tell, the way my heart rate has virtually soared. I can see her long to monopolize on it, but I can also see concern for me, something that before now, probably only existed in worlds that weren't mine. For once, she might actually let me off…which is good, because after the day I've had, staying on my toes with all that she suspects about Cosmo and Wanda might be difficult.

"She led me to Prince Charming, didn't she?" She says simply, smirking still. I exhale sharply, quite obviously expecting her to say something else entirely. Thank God for those fairy tales.

Nodding mutely, I glance once into her eyes and then draw back, overwhelmed. Somehow, I highly doubt I'll leave here with the same opinion as before, but whether that's for better or for worse has yet to be decided. The sad thing is, I'd always thought Vicky was fairly predictable. It's not hard to figure out what an evil, sadistic babysitter is going to do. Now that that's gone, I haven't the faintest clue what she might do or say next.

When I say nothing in response, her eyes narrow momentarily, then she sighs and meets my gaze head-on. Her eyes glue mine to hers in no time at all, and, in a matter of seconds (or what feels like seconds, I don't know exactly), she's captivated me. I want to shudder, look away, do anything that might return what precious little I have left of my sanity, but it doesn't work. After what Wanda said (and what Vicky admitted), I can't focus on any one idea of who exactly Vicky is. As a matter of fact, I'm not so sure I know anything about the girl that babysat me for six years at all.

Clearing her throat, she launches into her story. Most of it Wanda has already said, but it's still her spin on the whole thing. No words come to my mind during her speech, so I just take her in while she says it. Something tells me this is her true self, the one she's desperately hid for years. She's nervous, fidgety, but almost painfully honest. I can tell she wants to shut her mouth and pretend none of this had ever happened, but it's too late. Even if I could wish it so she'd never said anything, I'm not so sure I want to. I think I like her like this.

"My parents…I don't remember much about them. My father was named Vick, he was Denzel Crocker's babysitter (which tells you he must be older than him by a few years)…and he hated me. I don't think he ever wanted to get married, but somehow, there I was and he resented my birth.

"Until I was five, I lived with him and my mom Nicky. All I remember from then was a lot of hitting- my dad had a bad temper. He resented me and, after a while, I resented him and the way he treated me. I might have been five, but no one pushes me around.

"My mom ran away from him and took me with her. He eventually found us, though, and my mom did the only thing she could do- she called my uncle. I didn't want to go…and the more I refused to leave, the worse things got for everyone around. I started to hate the world for treating me like I was some sort of hackey sack."

Swallowing hard, yet finding it thoroughly impossible to remove her eyes from mine, she continues. Her voice may be monotonous, but I can tell the events were anything but. Unconsciously, I reach out and touch her cheek- my hand lingers for a few seconds, but I don't remove it. Somehow, I don't dare.

"I hated them and I still do. They're weak, just like my mother. I don't know what happened to her and I don't really care, either. If their fear is anything like my mother's might have been, then she's probably stuck in another marriage.

"A few years later, after my father got himself arrested, Tootie was born. I could tell she was going to be just like them, but they insisted that I pretend she was my sister. I hated her, both because I had to pretend we were related and because they could love her and not me. I wasn't their kid- _she _was.

"The more I hated her, the more my mind kept returning to the one chance I had of getting out of this, that guy the gypsy told me I was going to fall in love with. I started obsessing over it…which was why when Tootie started obsessing over you, I went through the roof. If she fell in love with the guy that I was supposed to be with, then I'd have nothing except hatred for the world and not even two parents to call my own. She didn't deserve you.

"But I couldn't tell if you were the guy or not until I started babysitting you and I saw those pink and green animals. I had the feeling your pink goldfish was always watching me, as if she knew something I didn't and I got angry. Who was a fish to judge me? She didn't know anything about me."

Biting back a smirk, I refrain from shaking my head. The sad thing is, if they were just regular goldfish, I could write that off as a touch of insanity. But Wanda really has been watching Vicky and she really isn't just a normal goldfish with pink eyes.

"I started to realize you were it…and I was furious with the damn gypsy for predicting such a stupid thing. You're six years younger than me! Who the hell is she to tell me who I can and can't fall in love with?

"So I liked only boys with certain qualities that you didn't have. I thought that if I acted like a normal teenager, no one would notice and it would go away, whatever weird crush I had on you. It didn't- it got worse.

"I got nastier with you, hoping that the more I shoved you away, the less of a chance I had in keeping the crush. That didn't work either, except for the fact that you started to hate my guts and I was frustrating myself.

"I guess I've always wanted to tell you this…" She turns her head away, but I place my hands (removing the one sandwiched between hers) on the side of her face and hold it there. Apparently, what she just said was a lot for her to handle, because I can tell she wants to bolt. I have no intention of letting her, but I understand.

"I love you, Timmy…and I'm sorry for treating you like, well, how I was treated…"

Rising to my feet (and preventing the waiter from heading our way, because I don't have the money to take her out on a date), I remove my hands from her face as she deflates. Defeated, she gazes at me and waits for me to tell her I hate her and I want her to die. Ironically, those thoughts passed through my mind as recent as yesterday, but it's not there today. (And no, I've never told Wanda that, because she'd freak).

Offering my hand to her, I lead her out of the restaurant (amidst the employees screeching at me for wasting space and not buying anything). I might regret what I'm about to do, but, once again, I won't fix it with magic. Magic has done a lot for me, but romance isn't exactly an area it should touch. Humans should be able to handle it on their own, at least, I hope I can. I'll find out in a few seconds, at any rate.

Both of us trembling slightly, I shift closer to her as we stand outside, in the alleyway in the back of Il Maestro. Fortunately, the staff hasn't found us. Otherwise, we might have a situation on our hands.

Before I can even think of what I wanted to, she grabs me around the waist and presses her lips against mine. I guess you could never say Vicky is shy…normally. She finds something she wants and, eventually, she gets it.

She breaks the kiss after a few seconds- my head's spinning. A devilish grin splits her face and, as soon as I catch my breath again, she kisses me. It's sort of like lather, rinse, and repeat, except, you know, without the shampoo.

"So?" She asks, eyes sparkling mischievously.

Glancing at my face, she starts laughing. I can tell a tomato would envy my color, because all the blood has raced to my face. I haven't kissed her back, but she's got the idea.

"Um…wanna sneak into a movie?" I offer, because I'm hopeless in debt at the moment.

Smirking, she grabs my hand and yanks me all the way to the movies.

**… **

_Epilogue_

_After a few weeks, Timmy finally got used to Vicky and, although they can't exactly come out and say they're a couple, they're pretty much official. She wants to keep her babysitting practice, after all, but at least she isn't as nasty as she used to be. Timmy's trying to work on getting rid of all of that, but it's not quite working as he'd planned. _

_ Cosmo had a long, tiring conversation with Wanda regarding her premonitions. After finding out that she can't really control them and no, she didn't see any signs of them breaking up, he calmed down long enough to snuggle on the couch. They fell asleep together…and, now that he knows the whole story behind most things, their relationship has improved. _

_ Tootie didn't take their relationship too well. Wanda had to have one hell of a conversation with her, including preventing her from hurting herself. For a good while, Cosmo and Wanda had to act as her fairy godparents, because she needed them more than Timmy. She's finally decided that both Vicky and Timmy are dead to her…which, although isn't the healthiest thing, might be the best thing at the moment. _

_ So where are our love birds now? Well, I'd ask, but somehow, I don't think a locked door is very inviting. _

**… **

**So, yeah, not too happy with that ending, but that's how the cookie crumbles, I guess. Besides, I hope to have this, Overlooked, and Wedding Game done soon so I can work on another idea (or replace "Fear Not the Reaper"…) **


End file.
